


Bad. Ass. Unit.

by Nevcolleil



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Criminal Minds Setting, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-29
Updated: 2020-12-29
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:42:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 765
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28397874
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nevcolleil/pseuds/Nevcolleil
Summary: "We're the BAU. Yeah, that means Bad. Ass. Unit. For real, look it up.""Shut up, Ash.""Sure thing, Boss."
Kudos: 3





	Bad. Ass. Unit.

It’s their twelfth big case in thirty-four days, and that’s gotta be some sort of record, but Vic says, “Wheels up in twenty,” and everyone gets on the plane. They don’t get too tired to fly. They don’t get too tired to fight. They take their time-outs by turn and reluctant, and if one of them stretches himself too thin, the others engage in a little tough love. That’s what makes them so good. That’s what makes them the best.

That’s also what makes them sort of a nightmare to work with, not that Vic can say that the same can’t be said about himself. ‘Relentless’ makes for a damned good FBI agent, but not so good for a fellow passenger on a long flight. Or a parent. Or a spouse. So says Vic’s ex-wives. So says Dean’s baby mama, from what Vic can tell.

“So I think we should consider it. Just in case.” That’s Sammy, their Stanford grad. Vic would rather be sleeping. Singer groans, to Vic’s left, saying he’d rather do the same (Bobby groans a lot, in the busy times; makes Vic smirk and say, “’s what you get for coming out of retirement, old man” though he knows there are some kids out there in the Bureau who aren’t half as sharp as Bobby is at sixty). But if Sammy says they should consider something, it usually means there’s something to consider, even if Dean groans and makes a show of putting away his walkman. (Yes, walkman. Not i-pod. Kid’s got a weird aversion to all things computerized, making him the direct opposite of his brother.)

“Come on, man,” Dean whines. “We’ve gone over it a bazillion times.” Jo is smirking, shuffling through crime scene photos on her ipad with half an ear on the brothers, while Ash just keeps typing away at whatever-the-hell he’s got going on on his laptop. “Staging, mutilation, enucleation…” Dean lists off their unsubs’ greatest hits, counting on his fingers. “Dude. Ritual killers.”

“How many ritual killers,” Sam says, warming up to his argument, “stage like this, Dean? Huh? The “wingprints”? You know how difficult that must have been to perfect? Figuring that out wouldn’t have served the unsubs’ fantasy that these are real “angels” they’re killing. It would have disrupted it. The more I think about it, the more I think we’re missing something.”

“Yeah. A break,” Ash pipes up. Jo grins.

“Okay, Sammy. You look back over the profile. See what it changes if the religious elements of the scenes are just for show,” Vic tells his agent. He loves being the SAC, if only because no other authority seems able to get a Winchester to shut up.

No other besides Jo’s mama, Ellen, that is. But Director Harvelle’s authority is pretty absolute over all of them.

“Dean, you get some sleep,” Vic says, continuing when Dean opens his mouth, before the younger man can object. “I mean it. Let the Led Zepplin rest and get some shut-eye.” A sleepy Dean is a cranky Dean and much more likely to piss off the local LEOs when they touch down in Atlanta.

Dean almost always pisses off the local LEOs. He doesn’t need sleeplessness to help.

“How’s that geographical profile coming, Doc?” Bobby asks Ash.

Vic really hopes nobody notices the nickname in Atlanta. There’s a reason why Vic rarely takes Ash out of the office, and his nervousness at being away from his “baby” for long – the mainframe he built for their computer network back at headquarters – isn’t it. Vic shudders to imagine Ash grinning at the APD’s chief of police, tossing the tail end of that god-awful mullet over one shoulder, and explaining exactly what he considers himself to be a doctor of.

“Like Sunday morning, mon patron,” Ash says. “Easy peasy. Come take a gander.”

The team will. Dean will disobey Vic’s direct order to sleep instead. Vic won’t say anything about it until Dean says something to make Jo slap him. Sometimes Vic thinks the boy gets beat on by Jo more often than by their unsubs (not that it’s easy to beat on a Winchester. Besides being tough, the boys are six-foot walls of muscle. Tiny Jo is just that bit tougher.)

And in Atlanta, Ash will scandalize Captain Harris. Dean will piss off half of Georgia’s finest. They won’t catch their killers – not yet - but they will come closer than anyone else has. And Vic’ll be glad, as he is now, to call this his team. Crotchety old farts, pretty young feminists, Bitch/Jerk fights, mullets and all.


End file.
